


Your name was on me

by Readerstories



Series: Good Omens x reader [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, M/M, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-11-26 22:03:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20937455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Readerstories/pseuds/Readerstories
Summary: Hi love! I hope you are having a good day! I was hoping I could request a Gabriel x reader where one night they just get super drunk and wake up in Aziraphale’s book shop but to find out they both have a tattoo on them with eachother names (if you can of course) it reminded me of Avril Lavigne Your name was on me and my name was on you lyric ( hope you can do this request and have a amazing day!!!!!!)





	Your name was on me

Honestly, you day hadn’t been that bad so far. You had gone to the park outside the office building you worked in, eaten your lunch in relative quiet at a bench, and were currently enjoying a last cigarette before returning to your stuffy office.

Looking at your watch, you curse. Your break is almost over, which means you’ll have to finish your smoke walking back to the office. It’s not your favourite to enjoy one of your many vices, but it will have to do. 

Getting up, you sigh and start walking back. Or rather, you try, since as soon as you have taken on step someone runs right into you. You curse loudly, your cigarette falling to the ground.

“What the fuck, watch where the fuck you’re going!” You give a sorrowful look to your lost cigarette before connecting to the eyes of the person you ran into. His eyes are purple, what the fuck? 

“My apologises, but I do believe you were the one who were not watching where they were going.” The man is in all grey jogging gear. Who the fuck wears purple contacts while going jogging? 

“Well, you believe wrong. I was getting up from a bench, and you were the one who ran into me, not the other way around.” You give the guy a menacing look, getting out a new cigarette to make up for your lost one. You light it, taking a deep drag.

“Why do you do that?” The guy looks at you with scowl. You are confused.

“What, why do I smoke?” He nods; you try not to look incredulous, your eyes connecting with his purple ones.

“Yes, you know they can kill a human, yet are on your second in the short time I have been aware of your existence.” The formulation of the sentence is weird, but you choose to ignore it, shrugging at him.

“I don’t know mate, I just like it.” The purple eyes man stares at your for a few seconds.

“Fascinating.” He says, and then he takes off, jogging down the path. You stare after him. What a weirdo. You look at your watch, noting that you should get going so you won’t be too late back from your lunch. 

Not that a few minutes would matter if the end of world were to happen but still. Your pace back to the office is brisk, you are barely are able to finish your cigarette before you return to the office, but you at least clock in on time. 

Your mind might stray to think of purple eyes throughout the rest of your day, but you don’t think too much about it.

\---------

You lean your head back, taking a long final drag of your cigarette before stubbing it out on the wall of Aziraphale’s bookshop and throwing it the trashcan nearby. You always smoked outside the shop; you wouldn’t dare lighting one inside. 

Not only did you not want the smell to linger in the shop, but also you doubted any kind of spark or flame between those books would be any good. Plus you’re sure Aziraphale would get a heart attack, if an angel could get such a ting. You open the door to the shop and crash right into someone on their way out.

“Fuck!” You rub your face, checking if your nose is broken, since that guy had been surprisingly solid. Looking up, you are met with the purple-eyed guy from the park, now in grey suit instead of the grey jogging gear from the park.

“Oh, it’s fucking you again.” The man looks unimpressed.

“Do you fucking make a habit of running into people?”

“I do not. But you do have a habit.”

“I don’t go running into people for fun either.” 

“Not what I meant. The smoking, I can smell it on you.” The man grimaces, leaning slightly closer to take a sniff off you. You lean back quickly.

“Woah, not cool mate. I don’t even know your fucking name dude.” He scowls.

“It is Gabriel, although I hardly see why that matters.” 

“It’s polite for starters.” You offer your own name and take half a step back while brushing off some imaginary dust from your jacket while mumbling to yourself.

“What did you say human?” There he is with the weird formulation again.

“I said, like the fucking archangel, like Aziraphale’s annoying something or other.” You snort, Gabriel furrows his brow.

“I hardly see how me being me is funny to you.” You blink, and then stare at him. Of course, just your fucking luck. You let out a laugh that Gabriel don’t understand and shake your head.

“Off course you fucking are.” You keep shaking your head, stepping past him, opening the door the door again, and step in. The door falls close behind you, Gabriel just watches. That was not the reaction he had expected. What a fascinating human.

\-------------------------

After that second meeting, Gabriel had taken to just showing up randomly in your life. He said it was to learn more about humans. You don’t know if that’s actually true or if the angel was just lonely, but you didn’t care. He hadn’t chosen the best subject though, or at least you thought so. 

You were far from the best that humanity had to offer, and you had told Gabriel as much. You smoked, drank, swore on at least a daily basis, and many other things that certainly were unholy. He seemed like he didn’t really care, said it was good to study sinners to. You snorted at that and lit another cigarette.

One time when Gabriel pops in for another one if his visits, he finds you drinking. Which isn’t that unusual really, but it’s barely past 1 pm, you are alone, and you aren’t dressed like you are going out to a social function. 

And yet, here you are, on your couch, staring at the ceiling with glass in hand, some alcoholic drink filling it almost to the brim. Gabriel makes some noise to alert you of his presence. Your head whips around to look at him, what he has learned to interpret as a grin spreading across your face. 

“Gabriel, my favourite angel!” You get up on unsteady feet, managing to somehow not spill a single drop of your drink. He would call it a miracle if it wasn’t for the fact the he knew humans aren’t capable of such a ting.

“Well, that’s a lie, second favourite will have to do my dude.” You are standing in front of him, grin still on your face.

“What are you doing?” 

“Drinking!”

“I can see that. What I meant, why are you drinking at 1 pm? Is it not too early?” You take big gulp of your drink, turning you back to him.

“By any decent standard yes, but not with the shitty week I’ve had.” You spin around in dramatic fashion, falling back down on the couch, still somehow not spilling any of your drink. 

You pat the seat next to you. Gabriel had learned after some time that it meant that you wanted him to sit there. 

He takes is seat carefully, back straight, ever so unwilling to relax. You thrust your drink forward so it’s right under his note. He can smell the ghastly alcohol in it and informs you of as much. You snort.

“That’s the fucking point, Gab.”

“Gabriel.”

“Hmm, yeah, whatever. Just taste the fucking drink.” You shake the glass, making the liquid in the glass swirl around. He takes the glass, if only to make sure you do not spill the drink all over him. 

He takes another small sniff, wrinkling his nose at the smell, but he tries to drink still. He is surprised when it does not taste too bad.

“It is not very unpleasant, it is almost… sweet?”

“It’s a fucking mojito Gabriel, it’s kinda the point. I’ll make you new one, since that is kinda shit since all the ice melted.” You get up from the couch again; he stays seated while you wander over to your kitchen. 

You take out a new glass, and he watches in fascination as you set out to make a drink for him, surprisingly skilled even while inebriated. 

You walk back to him, trading the new drink for your old one, still standing, if slightly unsteady. He takes a sip of the drink in his hand, this one is actually even better, or less worse he supposes. 

“Cheers Gab.” You clink you glass with his, in what has learned is common custom to do when humans drink together.

“Gabriel.” He reminds you yet again. You laugh into your drink.

\-------------------------

You awake slowly, your pounding head being the first thing you become aware of. The second thing is that you are on the floor leaning against a couch, the third is that you recognise the smell of Aziraphale’s bookshop. 

You groan, daring to open your ever so slightly. There is no Aziraphale; all you can see is several of his not so neatly stacked books. 

You carefully move your head from side to side, accessing your surroundings as well as how hungover you are. It’s not too bad you access; you’ve had worse. Then you hear a groan behind your head, one that is not your own. 

You turn your head ever so slowly so you can see who’s behind you. You almost gape in shock when you find Gabriel lying on the couch behind you, his own eyes barely open and clearly hungover just like you.

“Hey.” Your voice sounds shot, overused. You can vaguely remember yelling at cars.

“What is this feeling?” Oh yeah, you doubt the angel have ever felt what alcohol can do.

“You’re hungover, it’s what’s happens when one drinks too much.” You take a deep breath, careful to move slowly to not bring a wave of nausea, shuffling slightly so you’re sitting more upright, not looking at Gabriel anymore. Your shoulder itches, so you scratch at it while looking at the wall and trying to make the world stop spinning. 

“How do you stop it?”

“Well, normally one would have to kinda wait it out, drink a lot of water and eat while ones body does the job of slowing getting rid of the alcohol or healing itself I guess, but you could just…. Miracle it away?” At the question, you turn your head towards Gabriel, establishing eye contact once more. He does the nearest thing to a squint you have ever seen on the angels face.

“That would be a waste of a miracle.”

“Please, it’s hardly a miracle, just a convenience. And I’m begging you Gabriel.” A few seconds pass, then he sighs. He snaps his fingers, and then every trace of your hangover disappears. 

Your mouth feels weirdly dry, so you get up to find the back room where you know there’s a sink. You stick your head under the faucet, drinking down as much as you can. When you’ve had your fill, you return to Gabriel, finding him sitting upright instead of lying down. 

“If my hangover is gone, why is there this weird sensation at my shoulder?” Your eyebrows knit together for a few seconds in confusion before it dawns on you. What the fuck. 

“Gabriel, could you show me your shoulder?” Gabriel seems confused, but obliges you. He pulls his jacket and shirt out of the way at the same time as you pull down your t-shirt down to expose your own shoulder. 

You don’t know what to feel when you see Gabriel written in cursive letters tattooed into your skin, and your own name written in the same font on Gabriel’s shoulder.

“What is this?” Oh yeah, of course Gabriel doesn’t know what the fuck a tattoo is. You clear your throat, letting go of your t-shirt so your shoulder is covered up once more.

“It’s uh, a tattoo. It’s something humans get that’s permanent, ink injected into their skin that stays for the rest of their life.” A few seconds of silence passes, neither you nor Gabriel saying anything. He seems fascinated with the new lettering on his shoulder.

“Look, I’m sorry. We clearly got very drunk last night and I dragged you into doing something very stupid. But at least you can miracle this away too right?” 

“No, I actually like this.” Gabriel says and then blips out of existence. Or to somewhere else, you don’t even really know. You sit there stunned, alone and not knowing what to think.

“What the fuck!!” You exclaim just as Aziraphale steps into the shop.

“Oh hello dear, to what do I over the pleasure of your company?” You put your head in your hands, swearing some more, not knowing what else to say. Aziraphale gives you a worried look.

“Oh dear, I’ll go make some tea then, maybe that’ll help.” You doubt it, but you’ll give it to him for at least trying. You sigh, dragging your hands down you face. 

You hear the comforting sound of Aziraphale tinkering around in the backroom, preparing your tea. You don’t know how you’ll explain the truly bizarre situation to him, but you guess you’ll try.


End file.
